


of hostages and robins

by nightkat



Series: batfamily adventures [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Batfamily Feels, Batman - Freeform, Brothers, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Gen, Protective Jason, Robin - Freeform, School, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-03-26 03:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13848867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightkat/pseuds/nightkat
Summary: As Bruce Wayne's children, all four of them were liable for one or two hostage situations. Bruce had always told them to lay low and not engage if it were to ever happen. Why can't his sons ever listen to him?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ages:  
> Dick is 12  
> Jason is 10  
> Tim is 8  
> Damian is 3-4

Dick Grayson enjoyed sitting at the big kid table. After all, he was almost a  _teen_  now, almost _middle school_ , so he felt he deserved to finally have a seat at the table. Of course, with how popular Dick was, no one complained that his presence often brought along three smaller kids to the table.

"Hey, Dickface," Jason greeted, walking confidently to the table without a glance to the other sixth graders. He hopped onto the bench and sat on top of the table. Kids near him grumbled, moving their lunch out of the way. Jason ignored them. "Alfred gave me apples again instead of chips. What do you got?"

"Pudding cup," Dick said cheerfully. He reached into his bag and pulled out a chocolate pudding cup.  "Want it?"

Jason snatched the cup before his brother could change his mind. "Hell yeah. I don't know why the old man keeps pushing the health agenda on me. I mean, no one worries about  _calories_ and  _fiber_ on the streets."

"It was Bruce's idea," Dick said sympathetically, patting Jason's knee. "You are underweight, y'know."

"Whatever. Woop, incoming, 6'O clock." Jason pointed behind Dick with a raised eyebrow. "Timmy brought the demon brat."

" _What?"_ Dick whirled around.

Sure enough, an eight year old Tim Drake was struggling to hold onto a squirming toddler. The toddler was actively pushing against Tim's face and kicking his tiny feet into his older brother's stomach. Tim grimaced but didn't let go, having spent years perfecting how to hold onto their evil, smallest brother.

" _Gwayson!"_ Damian cried out, spotting Dick. "Let me go!"

"Hold  _on,_ demon brat," Tim hissed. The tiny kid stumbled towards the table, finally releasing Damian into Dick's arms. At this point, the whole lunch room was staring at the family. This happened almost every day, but no one ever got bored of watching billionaire Bruce Wayne's children.

Dick tightened his hold on his younger brother, who wrapped his arms tightly around Dick's neck and buried his face in Dick's shoulder. "Tim," Dick said, exasperated. "Why'd you take him out of pre-school? Remember why Bruce was called in last time?"

"He wouldn't stop screaming!" Tim exclaimed. He struggled to climb onto the bench and sit next to Dick, accidentally kicking someone in the arm on the way. "I was walking by the room, and I could just hear him wailing. They practically handed him over to me."

"Aw, demon brat missed you." Jason snorted and reached over to ruffle Damian's hair, only to pull back his hand with lightning fast reflexes, missing Damian's teeth by centimeters. "Jeez. Demon brat's in a mood."

Dick huffed. "First, stop calling Damian 'demon brat'. Second--"

Angry roars entered the room. Doors to the lunch room busted open. Several men in black entered the room, firing blanks into the air and flipping tables near them over. Kids screamed and scrambled towards the back wall. There was utter chaos and noise, before five more shots were fired. 

"Nobody move and everybody shut up!" one of the men shouted. The lunch room quieted, soft whimpers filling the air. Dick squeezed Damian, willing the angry toddler silent. The bat family hadn't moved from their seats, watching the men quietly, muscles tense under their shirts. "We're really not looking to kill anybody today. Where are Bruce Wayne's children?"

Immediately, almost all kids pointed to the table the boys occupied. Jason snorted under his breath, "Wow, thrown under the bus." Tim scooted closer to Dick, his finger already pressing speed dial on his phone under the table. 

"You four are coming with us. You're worth a lot to Bruce Wayne, which means you're worth a  _lot_ of money." Three men with guns approached the table. Dick narrowed his eyes, but otherwise didn't say anything. They all knew the protocol for this. Comply. Wait for Bruce. Or Batman. Defend only when death or serious injury is imminent. 

"H-hey," a supervisor teacher tentatively spoke up. "L-let's talk this out. These kids didn't do anyth--"

"Shut up!" a man roared, swinging his gun toward the teacher.

Immediately, Tim was in front of the gun, his body between the man and the teacher. Dick cursed, having not noticed his nimble brother escape from his side. "You want us, not him," the eight year old said slowly. "We'll go with you."

The leader gave an ugly laugh. "Short stuff wants to be brave. Don't get in our way again." He raised the butt of his gun, about to strike down hard onto Timothy's head.

Before anyone could see, something flew through the air and clashed against the leader's hands. He yelped and dropped the gun in pain. Jason was suddenly by the man's side, grabbing his arm and twisting it around his back. A boot to the leader's spine and the man was on his knees, groaning, arm pinned dangerously backwards.

Jason snarled and applied pressure. "You think you're so tough? Picking on someone who's only sixty pounds and 4 feet tall?"

"Hey!" Tim said, unfazed. "I'm four feet two."

The four men surged forward with their guns, surrounding Jason and their leader in anger. "Let him go or you die, kid."

Dick blinked at the scene. Then looked down at the smug baby in his arms. "Damian!" Dick hissed. "A batarang? Really? Where are you hiding them?" Before Damian could answer, he whipped his head to Jason. "And Jason! Let him go. Jesus Christ, did you guys forget  _protocol_?" Bruce was going to _kill_ them!

"We could take them," Jason said confidently, unflinching at the four guns pointed at him. "Just say the word, and I'll bring them all down, Dicky."

"Not. In front. Of everyone!" Dick said sternly. True enough, the entire lunch room was staring at the scene in shock. They had never seen Jason Todd in action, and they all wondered why the four boys weren't more scared than they should be.

"Hey!" a man shouted. "Did you hear us? Let him go!"

Jason grunted. "Fine." He released the leader and stepped back. "We'll let them take us."

* * *

 

They were herded into an isolated room. More men poured into the school buildings to ensure complete cooperation from teachers and the kids. By the time the five main men entered the room and the boys were pushed into a corner, Gotham PD had the school surrounded. 

"This is Gotham PD," Dick heard Commissioner Gordon yell through the classroom's tinted window. "We have you surrounded. All hostiles, surrender now and release the children."

"The children are fine," the leader hollered. He walked over to Jason and slapped the boy hard across the face. Jason grunted. He spat out blood onto the carpet, but otherwise didn't make another sound. "Heh. Mostly. Tell Bruce Wayne we want ten million dollars, and we'll let the kids go."

"We do not negotiate with hostiles," Gordon replied. "Release the children, and we'll see what we can do."

"Hold still, kids," one of the henchmen said as the proceedings went on. He had long pieces of rope in his hands. "Hey, what do we do about the toddler?"

"Tie him up, too," his friend said. "Or kill him. Whatever."

Dick slowly set Damian down next to him, letting the henchmen tie his hands behind his back with the rope. "No biting, Damian." The toddler jutted his lip out.

Tim let the henchmen tie him up, too, but after, he scooted his back towards the wall, where there was an internet connection port. Slowly taking his device out from the waistband of his jeans, he connected it without looking. Jason rolled his eyes at this, but knew his geek brother would probably be the one who would save them without causing a scene. 

The boys huddled into the corner, watching the men and police holler back and forth. Dick wiggled so that he sat between Damian and Jason, who was nursing his bruised cheek with his shoulder. "You okay, Jay bird?"

"Yeah. Bruce punches harder in training." Jason shrugged.

"W-Richard?" Damian scowled, slowly pronouncing his Rs like his father told him too.

"Yeah, baby bird?"

"I can get out of this wope, you know."

"Yeah, baby bird," Dick sighed and tested his ties on his hands. They were loose. "I know."

 


	2. chapter two

It's been two and a half hours. 

Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were all huddled in the corner. They watched their hostiles warily. The leader was growing more agitated by the second, wondering why Bruce Wayne hadn't tried contacting him yet for the children. For God's sake, these kids were still in elementary school, shouldn't the billionaire be more worried? Maybe they'd overestimated the kids' value?

"Bruce Wayne doesn't negotiate with criminals, you moron," Jason said, bored. His hands were cramped from the rope ties, Dick kept trying to calm Damian's murderous tendencies down, and he really needed to pee. "He's probably calling Batman right now."

"Shut up!" one of them barked, raising his gun threateningly. "The Batman doesn't exist."

"I've got news for you, buddy-"

Dick slammed his shoulder into Jason's. "Shut up, Jason.  _Protocol."_

"The protocol sucks!" Jason would have thrown his hands in the air if they hadn't been tied. "Sit still and trust the police? When has the police done  _anything_  right in Gotham?"

The leader stomped towards Jason, face contorted into rage and annoyance. His hand shot out and grabbed Jason by the front of his shirt. Dick and Tim tensed. If any of them were in actual serious danger, they knew what  _protocol_  to follow after: kick ass. "Since you're so goddamn mouthy, why don't you be our first victim? Show the police we're  _really_  serious, huh?" He dragged Jason over to the high window and lifted Jason onto a desk so that parts of his face can be seen facing towards the police. "You think we're kidding?" the leader shouted. He pressed his gun to Jason's temple. "You have five minutes to transfer ten million dollars into the bank account number I gave you. I swear to god, I  _will_  kill this kid!"

"It's a lot of money to gather," Jim responded calmly through his megaphone, though his voice had an undertone of worry. Jason had a blossoming bruise on his cheek, and the danger to these kids' lives was increasing. He turned behind to his men to hiss, "Can someone get Bruce Wayne on the damn phone already?" then turned back to his assailant. "We'll need more time than that."

"Five minutes or this kid fucking dies," the leader said flatly before throwing Jason back onto the floor.

Jason hissed as his shoulder slammed into the carpet but still managed to give a death glare at the men above him. He wiggled back onto his knees, kneeling tall and challenging. "Fuck you," he spat. Dick groaned.

The leader's lips morphed into a sneer. "I said I'd kill you in five minutes, but I never said anything about injuring you." He pulled his boot back, ready to give a vicious kick to the defenseless Jason.

"Wait!" Tim squeaked from the corner. Dick and Damian startled, turning to look at their brother, who had been silent for the majority of the time. They knew he'd been trying to do  _something_  with the Internet and so had blocked Tim with their bodies, but had assumed it was a lost cause when the first hour passed. "Check your bank accounts. The money is there."

The leader's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Dick and Jason looked at Tim sharply, wondering where he was going with this. They all knew Bruce would never give criminals what they wanted, and Tim's allowance did  _not_  go as far as ten million dollars. Still, Tim looked imploringly at the leader.

"Check if the kid's right," the leader grunted.

One of the men took out his phone. Dick held his breath as he watched, wondering the next course of action when the men would realize there was no--

"Huh," the man exclaimed. "It's there, boss!"

"Lemme see!" The leader snatched the phone and glared at the screen. Sure enough, it  _seemed_  like ten million dollars had just been deposited to his off-shore bank account. But . . . "How'd you know, kid?" he stomped over to Tim, who tensed and wriggled in further into the corner. "Bruce communicating with you somewhere?"

"Leave Dwake alone!" Damian lisped, scowling. 

"Shut the fuck up," the leader snarled, shooting his hand out to grab Tim by the front of his shirt. Tim, who had a tiny figure, was easily lifted from the floor. The device he had behind his back dropped, revealing the cable port and iPad he had hidden in his waistband. "What the fuck? You morons didn't pat them down!" He threw Tim behind him hard. Tim crashed into the table with a thud, evoking angered hisses from Dick and Jason. 

The large man examined the devices. Now, he wasn't a genius by any means, but he  _did_  take some computer science classes at Gotham University way back then to know-- "The fucking money is fake!" he roared, shooting up from the ground. "Little fucker mimed some digital money or some shit!" 

"Oh, shit," Dick muttered. Alfred be damned, he was allowed to curse here. This situation just escalated to a possible level four. He might have to break out of these ropes after all.

"Come here!" the leader grabbed at Tim again. 

Jason snarled. "Leave him alone. You fucking coward, he's eight!" 

"It's okay, Jason." Tim glared at the man before him, steely blue eyes hardening. "It's just like training." 

The leader's fist connected to Tim's eye. Tim flew back a couple of feet. His hands and feet tied, he had no choice but to land on his back. Damian started wailing. Not in fright, but in uncontrolled anger. Dick tightened his hold onto Damian, his nails digging into his own palms.  _Not yet, it's not a level four, yet._

Tim groaned but rolled over onto his stomach, slowly going back onto his knees. "You see my brother, right there? He's three," Tim spat at the advancing leader. "He hits harder than you."

"That bruise says something else," the leader grinned maliciously. He grabbed Tim by the hair and yanked. "How about another to even it out?" He drew his fist back.

"If you--" Jason whispered, absolute fury in his voice. A dark look came over his face. "If you touch him  _again_ , I will fucking kill you. Protocol be damned. I will kill you."

The fist connected. Tim dropped to the floor. Dick's nail sliced through his palm. Jason smiled. 

"You can't do anything, pipsqueak." He shrugged. "All of you, initiate plan B." The leader pointed at the remaining men around the room. 

One of them blanched. "P-plan B? But B-Boss, we're not  _really_  killing them, right? We were just--"

"Shut up!" their leader slammed his hand on the table. "Things change. These kids piss me off, and we're obviously not getting the money. Plant the bombs, and we're out of here." 

With hesitance but utter loyalty, the men slowly shuffled out. Only the leader remained, who squatted down in front of a still smiling Jason. "This is how it's going to go down. My men are going to start planting bombs all around the school as I speak. We're going to tie you fuckers here and leave. And maybe, if you're lucky, you'll survive with a limb or two."

 _Okay, level four, time to get out--_ Dick paused, closely studying Jason's smiling face. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit.

"Actually," Jason laughed. " _Y_ _ou're_ the one who's going to be missing a limb. Then Jason headbutted him.

The leader yelled, staggering back. In that second, Jason broke out of his ropes easily and surged forward. The second Robin quickly grabbed one of the leader's arms and twisted. A sickening  _crack_ filled the air. The leader yelped in agony. Jason tangled his other hand into his kidnapper's hair and yanked, forcing the man's head back at an odd angle. 

"Didn't I tell you?" Jason whispered in his ear sadistically. "Touch him again, and I kill you. Didn't I say that? I said that. Tell me, how many arms do you really need to have?" He yanked at the arm again, several more cracks in the air, this time the leader's screams harmonizing with them. 

"Jason, no!" Dick broke his ties at the same time Damian did, too. Unfortunately, Damian was faster than Dick let on, and Dick couldn't stop him before Damian flew a Batarang at the leader. It slashed at his face gruesomely. The leader cried. "Damian!"

Jason's face twisted, looking at his oldest brother with determination. "He hurt Tim."

Said boy groaned from his place on the ground, finally waking up. "I'm fine, Jason," Tim panted. "Don't kill him." 

"You're all going to die," the leader said tightly through gritted teeth. Blood dripped from the deep cut on his cheek to the floor. "You're all going to fucking die!"

Jason stepped back far enough to stomp hard twice onto the back of the leader's knee.  _Crack_. Shattered kneecap. The leader howled and dropped his head in silence. 

"Jason," Dick said cautiously. "This isn't what Bruce wants. Remember? Situation escalates, we protect ourselves and leave the scene. We have to leave the scene anyway.  Bombs remember?"

"To hell with what Bruce wants," Jason hissed. "He hurt one of us. More than once. I'm going to track every one of those men in this school,  _before_ the bombs blow."

Damian scowled and marched to stand by Jason's side. "I with him!" he declared. Then frowned. "I  _am_ with Todd." Jason snorted. 

Dick surveyed the situation before him critically. Jason had that look that Dick knew from years of living with him meant he was going to get his way, consequences be damned. Damian also had that fire look that had given Bruce grief over the years. Then Tim, who looked a little dazed but was ready to go along with whatever Dick decided. 

He surveyed himself. Felt the adrenaline running through his veins, the pure anger fueling his heart. Bruce had taught him self control for so long, but maybe it was time to let out his anger. 

"Okay." Dick took a deep breath. Wow, Bruce was going to kill all of them, if the bombs didn't kill them first. "Okay, fine. We track the other men down. Teach them a lesson, but _no killing_."

Jason grinned. "Fine by me."  Then he slammed the leader's head down onto the desk, effectively knocking him out for a few more hours. "Let's find those bastards."


	3. chapter three

They climb through the air tunnels first.

Dramatic, they knew, but they wanted to spread out and get the jump on their targets fast without being spotted. Dick took the lead, shuffling carefully through the tunnel with Jason, Damian, and Tim crawling behind in that order. Their movements weren't as quiet as Batman would have been, but the incompetent men couldn't detect them.

"Okay, Jason," Dick whispered. "I'm detecting two heat signatures with Tim's device down below us. Remember, there were five men in the room, including their leader, who Jason knocked out."

"Eight men in total," Tim hissed from the back. "Five men in the room, four went out to block the exits. We're looking for eight men."

Dick nodded. "Right. We start here first. Jason, you take these two. Bomb placements are usually spread out to do maximum damage. That means if two men are here, then another two must be at the west wing, and the rest around the perimeter blocking the exits."

"Tim and I can take the ones here and the west wing." Jason sniffed and rubbed his nose to clear the dust from the tunnels. "Dick, you're the fastest. You can take them down without being spotted quickly and move on." 

Damian scowled and tugged at Jason's shirt. "I'm with Gwayson!"

"Shh, baby bird. You can come with me." Dick pressed a finger to his lips but grinned at his youngest brother. Talia and Bruce had shared joint custody all the way up until six months ago. Even though Bruce had tried his hardest, he couldn't control what Talia did with Damian during her shared time. They've only begun to learn what kind of cruel training Talia put the toddler through. But that also meant the three year old could hold his own, to some extent. "Okay. Tim, you've already had bomb training. If they manage to activate one before you take them all down, disabling is priority. Maiming the guys a little is fine--"  _I think, god, I am grounded for life_ \--"but  _no killing!_ And do not. Let. Them. Scream." A rare, malicious smile came to Dick's face. "We want them to be in so much pain they can't make a sound." 

Jason matched his grin. "You're not always a dickhead, Dickhead."

Dick rolled his eyes. He scooted to the left and nodded to the air vent. "Okay, this is where you get off, Jason, Tim. Remember, knock out, disable any bombs, move onto the west wing. Baby bird and I will navigate to the exit that leads to parking, first." 

Tim bypassed Damian to reach Jason. Silently, Jason counted down from five with his fingers. Muscles tensed, adrenaline pumped. By the time Jason reached one, Tim snatched the air vent cover away and Jason jumped. Just like Tim's device read, right onto the back of a henchman. Dick and Damian hurriedly moved on, but not before sickening  _cracks_  echoed through the tunnels, followed by a wheezing, " _no_ , please,  _n--"_ and then a thud. Dick thinks he may have heard the second man start a scream, but it was quickly cut off by something Dick probably didn't want to know.

Well, Bruce did train them. And the Batman doesn't do anything by halves.

It didn't take long to get to one of the exits. Dick paused at the air vent and turned to his baby brother. "Okay, baby bird, I don't want you to directly engage." Damian opened his mouth to protest, probably along the lines  _I can protect myself!_ but Dick hurriedly added, "I know you can handle yourself, Dami. But Bruce would definitely murder me if you even got a scratch. I need you to watch my back with those weapons that you mysteriously stash somewhere, okay? And take out any bombs they may have already planted." Dick lifted up his school pants and slid the two, long eskrima sticks tucked into his long socks. He always carried them to school. Stupid men never patted them down. He elongated them and watched them start to glow, electricity running through their bodies. "I'll take care of the guys."

Begrudgingly, Damian agreed. After all, it was Grayson, and he could definitely handle a few idiotic men. 

Dick took off the cover quietly. "The tunnel ends here, so we'll have to walk to find them. Can you get down from here?"

Damian scoffed and fumbled with his shoe laces and necktie. With surprisingly nimble hands, the three year old had a makeshift tie attached to the air vent cover. 

Dick surveyed his brother. "You know, baby bird, you creep me out sometimes." Then he shimmied down the vent and landed softly in the hall.

Immediately he was spotted by one man down the hall. The man paused for a second, shocked, and then fumbled for his radio to warn the others. "H-hey, how'd you-- _ow!"_ A knife flew through the air and pierced the radio, rendering it useless. In the second the man was distracted ( _thanks, Damian!_ ) Dick ran down the hall, flipped, wrapped his legs around the man's neck, somersaulted backwards, and crashed the man head-first into the floor. This ended with Dick straddling the man. It was a funny sight, a 12 year old taking down a 200 pound man.

"You may not have directly given Timmy a black eye," Dick whispered in the man's ear. He pulled his eskrima stick back. "But I'm still blaming you." A hard hit on the nose slammed the man's head back once more, and like that, the man was out. 

Okay, one down, one to go at this exit. Dick started to stand, but sharp steel touched his neck, preventing him from moving. 

"Nice try, you little bastard," the man hissed. "I don't know what you did to our boss, but I'll kill you anyway."

"Dude," Dick said. He could feel the knife press closer as he talked. "You see those sticks I'm holding? They're not just sticks. There's like, 50,000 volts charged to this. I mean, I think Bruce turned on the safety thing so it could only be  _25,000_ volts, but I think it could still do a lot of harm."

The man grabbed Dick by the hair and nicked Dick's neck with the knife. "What the fuck are you talking ab-- _argh-h!"_ Dick slammed his eskrima stick right into the man's stomach, electrocuting him harshly along with blunt trauma to the kidney (they'll just be bruised, Dick made sure of it). He pulled his weapon back after two seconds (25,000-50,000 volts did damage for even one second). The man's grip went slack, the knife dropped to the floor, and he slumped into the ground, boneless and paralyzed.

"Whew," Dick said, jumping up. "Two down, two to go. One is probably at the entrance, and the other at the side exit. You got them all, little D?"

"Yes," Damian said, from a locker. "They didn't activate it. I'm just des-tr-oy-ing it."

Dick grinned. "Nice pronunciation on that 'r', little D." Damian flushed. "Okay, so, we probably have six minutes left before the police notice there's no activity and the remaining idiots realize they're the only ones left. What do you think? Think we can do it?"

Damian gave a rare smile to his oldest brother. "With plenty of time, Gwayson."

* * *

 

Four minutes later, the Gotham police, who had breached the school once they realized the kids were no longer in the classroom, found the nine assailants tied up and injured beyond repair in a classroom in the east wing. All nine of them were crying hysterics or mumbling about  _killer children_ under their breaths. Said children were huddled in the corner, looking at Jim with the biggest, blue eyes, filled with tears and fright.  Damian was wrapped tight onto Dick's lap, face buried into his neck. Jason had a comforting arm around Tim, who clutched onto Jason's shirt that was suspiciously splattered with blood. The injuries on their faces broke Jim's heart. How dare these monsters hurt these children?

"Co-Commissioner Jim," Tim cried out. "You're here!" 

"Don't worry, sons, they won't hurt you anymore," Jim assured the boy. He squatted down and lowered his voice. "What happened? Did the Batman do this?"

"Uh huh!" Jason nodded earnestly. He pet Tim's hair and hugged the smaller boy to his body for a show. "they were taking us to another room--to kill us they said! And then Batman came in out of nowhere and beat the sh--crap out of them! He saved us."

"No, no  _that's not true!"_ one of the men shouted hysterically. "It was them! They're fucking crazy! Killer children! They did this to us!"

An officer jabbed the butt of his gun to the man's head. "Don't you think you gave them enough trauma to last their lives, scum? You telling us a couple of kids did this? There's no sympathy here."

Another man moaned in misery. "But it's true. They came out of nowhere. I think the small one broke all of my ribs."

"I wanna go home," Damian suddenly said, lifting his head to meet his intelligent blue eyes to Jim's. "I wanna see Papa."

Jason held back a snort. It would be a day in hell when Damian would ever willingly call Bruce 'Papa'. 

"He's coming," Jim said in a hushed tone. "Come on, let's get you out of here." He helped the children stand up from the corner and gently herded them out of the classroom. As the boys passed the henchmen, Jason gave a sweet smile to them, one that meant malicious intent. The men whimpered.

The minute the boys exited the school and entered the crisp, cool air, a luxurious car came screeching down the road. It turned dangerously into the parking lot and barely stopped before a frazzled Bruce Wayne jumped out of it. 

"Boys!" Bruce shouted, running over to them. "Oh my God, are you alright?" He dropped to his knees in front of them and gathered them all in one big hug. Despite the show, each boy enjoyed the contact and hugged the broad man back fiercely. "I am so sorry, Jim. My damn receptionist didn't pick up any of the calls, and I was in a meeting, but it's definitely no excuse, and thank God they're okay. Thank you so-"

"Thank Batman," Jim interrupted with a smile. Bruce blinked, then glanced suspiciously at his boys, who started to shuffle. Jim didn't notice though, admiring Bruce's worry for his sons. Of all the things in the world, Bruce's love for his children could never be doubted. "Some of your boys got roughed up by the men. You should take them to the hospital just in case."

"What?" Bruce pulled back to examine each of his sons. Some morph of Batman and Bruce appeared, piercing eyes hardening as he did a close check on each boy. Uh oh. "Jesus," he murmured, gently cupping Tim's cheek and rubbing his thumb over the blossoming bruises. He did the same for Jason. "Are you alright, Tim? Jason?"

"I'm okay, Bruce," Tim said quietly. "Really."

Jason rolled his eyes and batted the hand away. "I'm fine, old man. No permanent damage."

"Right, well, I'll take you boys to the clinic to get checked." Bruce's touch lingered a second longer before he stood up, picking up Damian with him. Damian easily wrapped his arms around his father's neck, comfortable and a little bit relieved the entire ordeal was over. "Thanks again, Jim. Do the boys need to come in later for a briefing?"

Jim glanced at the kids. To his mind, the kids looked traumatized and tired. "They do, but they can come in at the end of the week. No harm in letting them rest from all of this."

Bruce nodded and held out a hand for Tim to take. "Thank you. I'm glad you were here, Jim." 

"It's no problem, Bruce." Jim smiled and patted Dick's shoulder. "Go home and rest, yeah?"

With one last appreciative nod, Bruce softly guided his children to his car, where a worried Alfred sat in the driver's seat. 

"So," Bruce growled in his Batman voice once they were far away enough from the scene. All four boys cowered. "You're  _all_ going to explain exactly  _what_ happened today."

* * *

 

"Let me get this straight. You four willingly put yourselves in harm's way, broke the same protocol I've taught you since the first day you've _lived_ here, agitated and escalated the situation with the men,  _hunted after the men and used unnecessary force to defeat them_ , risked your lives deactivating those bombs, and risked your _identities_ all for a hostage situation which I could have easily deescalated if you all had just waited  _five more minutes_  and laid low?"

The boys winced and bowed their heads, even Damian. They were all sitting in a row on the couch, slouching as Bruce towered over them with strong arms crossed over his chest. They were in the manor, which was even worse, because that meant  _Bruce_ was lecturing. They could all take Batman lectures. But Bruce? Bruce gave the longest and most guilt-evoking lectures ever. Dick's been on the receiving ends of both personas, but he would easily pick Batman lecturing Robin than Bruce lecturing his sons. Ugh. 

"And you, Tim," Bruce continued, not even bothering to wait for an answer. Tim shrunk. "I've taught you to specifically not do what you did. By doing that digital stunt, you endangered yourself and angered the men. It  _might_ have worked, but you weren't in a position of stealth. You knew better. And Dick--" Dick groaned and buried his face. "I expected more from you. You're the oldest. You  _know_ the protocol best. You should have known those bombs wouldn't have done any damage other than some small fireworks, and that I  _was coming_. Do you boys not trust me anymore?"

All four boys shook their head fast. Of course they trusted Bruce. They trusted Batman.

Bruce ran a hand over his face. "I'm disappointed in all of y--"

"I'm not sorry!" Jason interrupted muttered angrily. 

"Excuse me?" Bruce asked flatly.

"I'm not." The second oldest gave a surprised sniffle and roughly rubbed an arm over his eyes. "Y-you can say you're d-disappointed all you want, Bruce, but I'm not s-sorry. They--They," Jason sniffled again and flung his arm down to throw an angry and teary expression at Bruce. "They hurt Tim! Punched him twice! I wasn't going to sit around and do nothing!"

It was extremely rare for Jason to express his feelings. Tim scooted a little closer to Jason so that their shoulders touched. 

Bruce looked at his son's tense and heaving shoulders and softened his face. He sighed and sat down on the coffee table in front of them. "I know, Jay," he murmured. He gently grabbed his son's hands, squeezing them. "They hurt you, too. And I'm angry at that. Really angry." Deliberately, Bruce reached out to run the back of his fingers down Jason's bruised cheek, swiping at a tear as he did. "And I'm sorry you boys are put into these situations. But you have to remember your identities. Normal ten year old children can't take down a 200 pound man, much less 9 of those men. With your training, you could kill someone." Jason's face contorted into frustration, and Bruce hummed in sympathy. "I know. I know it's hard, and maybe it was wrong of me to bring you guys into this world. But as painful as it was, analyze the situation again. Was Tim's life in danger? Were any of you boys in actual danger before you escalated the situation?"

Dick answered this time. "No, Bruce," he admitted. "We were just--we were angry. We let our emotions take us."

"I can understand that." Bruce nodded. "But I've been working on control with you. With all of you. If you ever happen to be in the field, you can't let emotions take you." 

"We know, Bruce," Tim said. "Really. It was just, just in the moment. I probably didn't help by going unconscious."

"It wasn't your fault, Tim!" Jason protested.

Bruce agreed. "No, it wasn't." He analyzed his third youngest's face, wincing internally at the bruises. Fury coursed through his veins as he switched his hands from Jason's face to Tim's. Those men were lucky Batman didn't actually get to touch them. Hurting his son? Unacceptable. But his mouth twitched when he saw the injuries left on the men when the police took them out of the building one by one. He sighed again. "Did you at least get a good hit in?"

Tim smiled and nodded eagerly, noticing the change of mood in Bruce. "One of them is going to be walking with a limp forever because of me. I used that move you taught me last week."

"Good boy," Bruce murmured. He looked at the rest of his sons. Jason sat, humbled with his eyebrows furrowed. Dick was hunched into the couch. Damian was quiet, looking at his father with eyes that he would detest to be called 'puppy eyes' but really, that's what they were. The father groaned and opened his arms. "Okay. Come here."

Three adolescent boys and one toddler crashed into his aging body at the same time. Bruce grunted but managed to catch all of them, wrapping his arms tightly around each. Despite their breach in protocol, Bruce was secretly proud at the skills his boys showed in defending--and attacking--themselves. He was also proud of their protective instincts for each other. Still, he couldn't exactly  _show_ that.

"You're all grounded," Bruce said, killing the mood. Four head shot back in shock. "Yep. Three weeks. Kiss your video games and TV goodbye. Dick, no entering the gymnastics course. Tim, no bat-computer. Jason, you can't work on the motorcycle. Damian . . . " he looked at his three year old, considering. ". . . No art supplies. Three weeks, starting now."

"But Broo-o-o-ose!" 

"That's not fair!"

"Fathe-r! I was only following Gwayson!"

"No bat-computer? But, what about my research? Monitoring Gotham? Come on, Bruce!"

Bruce grinned at the distraught faces and ruffled each of his son's hair. "Nope."

Four groans (or wails, depending how you heard it) echoed through the manor. Yep, Bruce's still got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horribly unedited. Please mention any typos. I'll edit it later, but wanted to publish it now!


End file.
